You know when you agree to something with the full knowledge in your own mind that you’re not actually going to go through with it? That was me about two months ago when Tom Bull floated the idea that a huge group of Australian and New Zealander expats charter a bus to Penn State University for the world’s biggest Australia Day party. How they can lay claim to hosting the world’s biggest Australia Day party is beyond me, but it sounds good, so I’m going with it. Anyway, I told Tom I’d go, I’ve been talking it up to everyone who’ll listen, we considered buying our own bus and I even blogged about it a few times. But in my mind, I was staying safe and out of trouble and warm and dry in my apartment in New York.
That plan got overruled, however, when I tried to tell the crew that I was pulling out. Cries of “Traitor!”, “Bad friend!” and “Poofta!” could be heard for miles around. Then the guilt trip began. It was all too much pressure so I gave in and pledged my allegiance to the Southern Cross.
There’s no doubt things will get messy (or as Australians so charmingly put it: Heccas); I went to an Australian pub last night for the official celebration and I’ve never seen such a ragtag bunch of drunken hooligans in my entire life. Australians are the proudest booze hags on the planet.
If I don’t make it back alive, it’s been fun. Happy Australia Day. Aussie Aussie Aussie, Oi Oi Oi!
I LIKE YOU!